Déjà Vu!
by Mahala
Summary: A short story for Halloween. Mac and Stella, and some team members. A mixture of crime, suspence, hurt/comfort, supernatural...!
1. Prologue

**A/N : Please read profile for disclaimer. This fic is set post season2 and pre-season3 or if you prefer in a Peyton free season 3. Just a shortish story with a vaguely spooky theme for Halloween and a Mac/Stella story to redress the balance (for those who were complaining that I have written too many Mac/Jo, Mac/Christine stories and not enough Mac/Stella.)  
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**Prologue**

It had started as an ordinary case and not a particularly difficult one at that. The murder had been solved in a matter of hours thanks to a series of clues, a little leg-work and a couple of lucky breaks. The aftermath had been harder to deal with but they'd got over that or at least Stella thought they had.

It was the woman that was the problem. The woman in the photograph. The woman with the high-necked collar and the flowers in her hair. She had become an obsession. She filled his thoughts when he wasn't working on a case or trawling his way through the piles of paperwork on his desk. Stella would catch him looking at the photograph he had propped up against the lamp in his office or going through the thin file that was becoming dog-eared with handling. He always denied it but she knew he was lying. He couldn't leave it alone. During the day she filled his every waking moment and she haunted his dreams at night.

Stella huddled into her heavy coat as she shivered in the cold sleet that fell covering the side-walk in a grey slippery slush. Her feet were frozen despite her boots and she pushed her ice-cold fingers deeper into her pockets. She felt guilty for following him but she couldn't help it any more than he couldn't help returning here. Stella peered out from the darkened doorway. He stood there not fifty yards away on the pavement looking up at the abandoned building opposite, oblivious to her presence, oblivious to the snow and cold. The windows were boarded up and the doorway had been temporarily bricked in. The demolition sign announced that it would be destroyed in a little under three weeks. Stella shivered again not from the cold but because she couldn't help but wonder whether he would be destroyed too.

He didn't move. He just stood there staring as though she were calling out to him. Stella wanted to run up to him, hit him, shake him, anything to stop him from pursuing this course to madness. Because that is what it was, madness. Somehow this woman, this image engraved onto a piece of paper had invaded his mind, his body, his soul and although she had been dead for over forty years she was alive to him inside his head.

Stella watched as he finally turned away and headed in the opposite direction. She waited for a few seconds and then slipped down the side-street and ran to wait at the corner. She watched him cross the road, treading carefully to avoid the larger puddles and walk away from her. She could see the water droplets shimmering on his black coat as he passed under the street-lamps. She waited till he turned the corner and was lost from sight. She knew he was heading home. It wasn't the first time they had done this. She walked back the way she had come and paused to look up at the abandoned brown brick building, it's boarded up windows announcing it's doom for all the world to see. Stella felt the anger and the despair bubble up inside her.

_"Damn you Anna Gray! Why can't you leave him alone? What do I have to do to get you to leave him be?"_

The street was deathly silent despite the hum of the distant traffic. There was no one to hear her heart-felt pleas. Stella didn't get an answer. She didn't expect one no matter how desperately she hoped for it. She turned away and headed back to her car. She got in and sat for a moment. She was so tired. She had to do something. She just didn't know what.

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	2. The Crime Scene

**Chapter 1**

_Three months earlier._

The wind blew chill announcing the end of autumn as Mac Taylor walked towards the squad car parked by the side of the road. He shivered in the early morning mist that hung over the city like a thick grey blanket. There were few people about at that early hour and those that were hurried by their heads bent down against the wind and the fine wetting rain, their only thoughts to get where they were going as quickly as possible. Arnold Graves, as olidly built man in his mid-fifties, looked up as Mac approached. He stamped his feet to try to get some warmth into them. He had served in the NYPD for almost thirty years and he knew the detective well, and he also knew the rumours about the tough, no-nonsense head of the crime lab. He suppressed a smile. He had started most of them.

"Good Morning Mac," he began with a grin as he lifted the crime scene tape. "Lovely day! Bet you're glad you caught this one." He sniggered as Mac gave him a scathing look and arched an eyebrow.

"Morning Arnie. What have you got for me?"

Arnie nodded towards the dilapidated four story brownstone. "One of the tenants on the third floor reported hearing noises coming from an empty apartment. Called it in. When we got here we found one victim by the name of Mark Browning. Looks like he's been strangled. No signs of a break-in. No sign of the murderer. Come on. I'll show you." Arnie walked over to the scratched grey front door, pushed it open and held it out for Mac. He suddenly realized that the detective wasn't there. He was still stood on the side-walk staring up at the building with a strange, almost puzzled expression on his face. "Mac, you okay?"

Mac looked up at the building that was clearly in need of repair. The paint on the window frames was peeling. One window on the third floor was boarded up and the brickwork appeared to be crumbling in several places. A curtain twitched in one of the windows and for a second Mac thought he glimpsed a face but he blinked and it was gone. For some unexplained reason the blood seemed to freeze in his veins. A slight feeling of nausea welled up inside him but he shook it off seeing Arnie there waiting for him. "Er … yeah. Sorry Arnie." Mac walked into the building and closed the door behind him. The smell of damp wood and old carpets met him as he entered the dingy hall. A battered looking blue door stood to the right. Somehow it looked wrong as though it shouldn't be there. Mac realized that Arnie was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. They climbed the stairs to the third floor. Each floor had four apartments. Arnie pushed open the door of one the apartments at the rear of the building. It was small and unfurnished. The carpets had been lifted leaving bare floorboards and empty curtain rails sat forlornly above the old sash windows. There was a crack in one of the panes and it looked as though the windows hadn't seen soap and a cloth in years.

Their victim lay in the centre of the wooden floor near an old-fashioned ornate fireplace, the grate surrounded by green and blue tiles. He was an average looking man of medium height and build with soft wavy brown hair. He lay with his arms loosely by his sides, his head slightly turned as though staring at the fire. Mac put down his case and pulled on gloves. He walked over to the body and squatted down, his eyes carefully checking for minute details. The strangulation marks on his neck stood out clearly on his pale skin and there appeared to be several black smudges. "Who identified the body?"

"Flack found his wallet in his overcoat." Mac looked up and saw Arnie gesturing to a heavy black wool coat hanging on a wrought iron coat hook fixed next to the door. "It has his driving licence, a credit card and thirty dollars in cash." Arnie sighed. "And a picture of his wife and kids." He saw the brief look of sadness and regret cross Mac's face. Mac may have a reputation of being a hard-ass but Arnie knew different. "Flack's already done a preliminary canvass so he's gone to track her down now. The M.E.'s van should be on it's way. I'll go meet and greet unless you need anything else."

Mac looked up at him, shook his head and opened his case. "No, thanks Arnie." He watched as Arnie raised a hand and made his way back down the stairs. Mac pulled out his camera and took several overall shots. He checked the man's hands and fingernails, scraped trace from under several of them. He took more shots of the man's throat and neck and swabbed several of the black smudges. He carefully labelled his evidence and stowed it by his case. He examined the floor in detail and checked the windowsills and the fireplace but nothing had disturbed the thick layer of dust. He dusted the door handle and the frame for prints but there was nothing. He had already checked the man's overcoat and put it in an evidence bag beside his case. He went through the man's pockets and found nothing other than two sets of keys which he also bagged.

Having pulled at the jacket to get to the pockets, he noticed something white under the man's hip. He pushed the body aside slightly and pulled out a thick piece of paper. He stood and turned it over to discover it was a photograph. A faded black and white photograph of a young woman in a high-necked dress with flowers in her hair. As Mac gazed at the picture he had a sudden overwhelming sensation of vertigo. The room seemed to spin around him. His breath caught in his chest and he felt as though he couldn't breathe. The walls closed in on him and he could smell a strong scent of roses and jasmine. Mac blinked to clear his head and he staggered towards the fireplace placing a hand on the heavy blackened mantle-piece to steady himself leaving a pattern in the dust as he did so. The floral scents were replaced by the smell of wood smoke and cigarettes. As Mac opened his eyes he could see a kettle sitting on the stove steam billowing from the spout. A dark green rag carpet lay in front of the hearth, with a small black cat curled up in a ball and, next to it on the floor a woman. Her empty eyes seemed to stare at him accusingly. He wanted to scream but no sound would come out. He wanted to run but he couldn't move. He closed his eyes to block out the image as nausea threatened to overwhelm him. He thought he was going to pass out. The picture fell from his hand.

"Mac? Mac!" He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Mac looked up to see Sheldon standing beside him. He nodded automatically. And he looked down at the body. Mark Browning lay as he had before on the bare wooden floorboards staring at the empty fireplace, the hole where the grate would have been now covered in with painted black bricks. Mac bent down and picked up the photograph.

"Who is she?"

"I don't know." Mac answered automatically but he couldn't help staring at the picture of the woman.

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The two men from the M.E.'s removed the body quickly and efficiently under Sheldon's supervision. Occasionally Sheldon glanced over at Mac who was talking to the officer in charge. Mac had introduced him as Arnold Graves. Clearly the two men knew one another quite well. Mac was listening intently as Officer Graves pointed to a door down the hall. They smiled at one another and shook hands. Mac raised a hand in farewell.

"Sheldon, I'm going to speak with the neighbour who called it in. Don's gone to talk to the caretaker and then he's going to inform the family. Can you take the evidence back to the lab? See if you can identify the trace on his neck."

Sheldon nodded. "You sure you're feeling okay Mac?" Mac looked at him as though he'd asked if the sun rose in the morning. He gave him a curt 'of course' as reassurance and disappeared. Sheldon shook his head and wondered if he'd imagined it but he could have sworn that Mac had been about to pass out when he had entered the room.

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**A/N Will try to post another chapter before the weekend.**


	3. The Neighbour

**Chapter 2**

Mac tapped politely at the door. He waited a few minutes until he heard shuffling at the other side and the door opened a crack. "Good Morning Ma'am. I'm Detective Taylor with the Crime Lab. I wonder if I could ask you a few questions?" The old woman smiled, opened the door wider and gestured for him to come in. She led him into a small cosily furnished room similar to the one next door. The layout was reversed as though a mirror image. The chimney piece was almost identical except this one had an electric fire in it and a dozen pictures arranged on top of it. One bar of the ancient looking fire showed bright red. Mac couldn't help but raise an eyebrow as he looked at the frayed power lead. It should have been condemned as a fire hazard. Despite the fire Mac shivered. As he looked around he realized that he was in the apartment with the boarded up window, the other one covered in a grimy yellowed curtain. He could feel the cold air seeping in through the cracks.

"Do sit down." Mac took a seat in one of the high sided chairs by the fire as the old lady seated herself in the other. Mac smiled at her. She looked frail and her dark coppery skin was deeply lined but her eyes twinkled and she smiled revealing small pearly-white teeth. She must have been a beautiful woman in her day.

"Mrs Jackson, how long have you lived here?"

"Oh almost thirty years since they first converted the place to apartments. It used to be a boarding house. They're going to pull it down you know? At the end of the year." A look of sadness came over her face. "I'm waiting to hear from the housing department. They said they are going to relocate me. I do hope they find me something with an elevator. I find the stairs so hard these days."

"Officer Graves said you called 911 when you heard someone next door?"

"Yes, it was just after six. I couldn't sleep so I got up to make some tea and I heard voices. They were arguing. I couldn't hear what they were saying. I'm getting a little deaf you know, but I heard a loud bang. I put my ear to the wall in the bedroom and it sounded like someone stamping on the floor. Then the door slammed. I went to the front door and I heard someone running down the stairs. I went to look but I couldn't see anything. I tested the door and looked inside and he was just lying there. That was when I went to phone 911."

Mac nodded surprised that she had been brave enough to come out and investigate. "Did you know the victim? His name was Mark Browning."

The old lady shook her head. "No, the other officer asked me that but no I've never seen him before. And the name's not familiar either. I can't imagine what he would be doing at Charlie's. That apartment? It used to be Charlie's – Charlie Watson. He died about a month back, in his sleep, poor old soul. But he was getting on a bit and he never got over the death of his wife."

Mac swallowed and looked down at his hands. "I see. Had he lived there long?"

"Oh yes, he and his wife Dorothy moved in a couple of years after me and my Arthur. That's us." She pointed up at a framed picture on the mantle-piece. As Mac stood up to look at the picture, Mrs Jackson asked if he would like coffee. Much to his own surprise, Mac said that he would. She seemed pleased and she wandered over to the kitchen which was little more than an alcove on the other side of the room. "Yes we all lived here for almost thirty years. Now there's only me left, and the young woman on the first floor. I think her name is Kim; she's some kind of artist but she's moving out at the end of the month. She said she's found a place in the Village. I expect she's moving in with her young man. She seems to spend more time there than here" She giggled like a schoolgirl and Mac couldn't help smiling. "Then when I've gone they'll tear the place down. Of course, there's still old Lester. He's the caretaker but he doesn't actually live here. He just maintains the place not that there's any point in him doing that now."

Mac gazed at the picture on the mantle-piece. He had been right. She had been a beautiful woman in her time. Her black curly hair was done up in a red scarf and her face smiled out him as she clung onto the arm of a handsome young man. Mac judged the photo to have been taken in the late sixties if the clothing was anything to go by. He replaced the photograph on the mantle-piece and gratefully accepted the coffee as he sat down once more. He felt tired and the sweet black liquid was welcome.

"You look tired." Mac huffed slightly as he looked up at her. If only he had a dollar for every time someone said that to him. "You must miss her very much." Mac stared at the old woman in surprise. "Your wife?" Mac nodded as he felt a lump come to his throat. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He was overwhelmed by the compassion in her eyes and the gentleness in her tone of voice. "How did I know? The way you looked at your wedding band when I mentioned Charlie's wife and how you looked at that picture. I did the same thing when I lost my Arthur and Charlie too when he lost his Dorothy. I'd like to tell you it gets easier and some days it does but some days ..." She broke off and her eyes glistened with tears. Mac knew exactly what she meant.

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Some twenty minutes later he took his leave and went back to the crime scene. He looked around but the room stood empty and silent. He closed the door and headed for the stairs. He took hold of the handrail but paused and for a reason he couldn't explain he reached out to the handle of the third apartment at the head of the stairs. The cold brass handle felt stiff in his hand as he turned it and the door swung open creaking silently, it's ageing hinges protesting as Mac pushed it open. The room was dark. The curtains were closed. There was a thick green carpet on the floor and dark shadows from the heavy furniture. His footsteps were silent as he stepped into the dim musty interior. A shiver ran up his spine and a voice whispered his name. "Mac! Mac!" Mac spun round but there was no one there. He stepped out onto the landing and a light shone out from the apartment opposite. Mac felt his heart miss a beat. He had been sure that he had closed the door but it now stood ajar and light cast a yellowy triangle across the floor. He felt drawn towards the door. He took one step then two and a scream pierced the air. He reached for the handle and hesitated. He knew he had to look but he couldn't. He froze as his heart began to pound in his chest. He knew what he would find. He knew she would be lying there by the fireplace, the cat sleeping on the dark green hearth-rug and the kettle singing on the stove. Suddenly a shrill noise made him jump. Mac realized that his phone was ringing in his pocket. He pulled it out and answered.

"Hey Mac, it's Don. Where are you?" Mac looked at the door in front of him. It was closed and there was no light. He whirled around but the door to other apartment was closed too. He walked towards it and tested the handle and found that it was locked. "Mac? Mac? Are you there?"

"Yeah Don. I'm here," he stammered. Mac stared at the handle. He tried it again but it wouldn't budge. Don was saying something to him. "I'm on my way back to the lab. I'll meet you there." Mac took one final look at the door and plunged down the stairs. Without pausing he ran out onto the street almost bumping into someone who automatically apologised and continued on their way desperate to get out of the rain. Mac took several deep breaths and allowed the cold air to cool his face as he stood in the pouring rain. As his heart-rate returned to normal, he felt he could breathe again. He looked around the street. Cars followed one another in a slow line as the morning rush hour got into full swing. A delivery van was parked opposite unloading boxes for the bodega. Mothers pulled unwilling children along as a distant school bell rang and an elderly man wearing a black plastic bag pushed a shopping cart loaded with bags along the street cursing the traffic and anybody who got in his way. His Avalanche was still parked a few cars away. He walked towards it and as he pulled out his keys and unlocked it, he looked back up at the building. A curtain on the third floor twitched and Mac blinked but there was no one there.

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**A/N Will try to post another chapter Friday but can't promise.**


	4. The Keys

**Chapter 3**

He was trying to push the whole episode away in the back of his mind as he entered his office and found Stella perched on his desk talking to Don. She flashed him a brilliant smile and his day got instantly better. He caught her eye but didn't say anything. "So Don, what did you find out?"

"Okay, talked to the grieving widow and she is grieving. Seriously Mac I have never seen anyone look so shocked. I thought she was going to pass out. She has absolutely no idea why her husband was at that address. According to her he had left early to sort out a problem with some coffins."

Stella's mouth twitched in amusement as Mac froze, the coat in his hand two inches from the coat rack. He turned slowly to look at Don. "Coffins?" Don grinned at the incredulous look on his face.

"Coffins! It turns out Mark Browning is an undertaker and he was supposed to be conducting a funeral for a Gertrude Mabel Scoggins ... seriously that's her name ... this morning at nine o'clock but the family got confused and ordered the wrong coffin." Don grinned at their bemused faces. "Don't ask! Anyway there was a big argument and he told his wife he was going in early to sort it out. I talked to the mortuary assistant. He confirmed the coffin mix-up thing but didn't see why it was a problem. They had a replacement coffin. It was just a question of transferring the good Mrs Scoggins to the right casket in time for the funeral. There was no reason for our vic to have left that early. The problem had been sorted. The Scoggins family were happy." Don shrugged.

Mac hung up his coat and sat down frowning. "So what was he doing in that apartment at six in the morning?"

"I have no idea. I talked to the neighbour who called it in ..." Don looked at his notes.

"Mrs Jackson," Mac supplied.

"Er yeah … but she only heard the altercation. She didn't see the perp but was sure it was a man's voice. I also talked to the neighbour on the first floor, Kim Jennings but she was asleep and didn't see or hear anything. I tracked down Mr Lester, the caretaker but he wasn't even there. He lives in an apartment down the street but has looked after both buildings for the past thirty or so years. Can you imagine being a care-taker for that amount of time?" Don shook his head in consternation. "Other than that I can't tell you anything. My guys talked to various neighbours including the owner of the bodega and the local postal worker but no one saw or heard anything. Welcome to my life!"

"Okay thanks Don. Run the usual background checks just in case. Let me know if anything turns up. I'll go talk to Sid and see how Sheldon is getting on with the trace." Don stood up and waved as he left. Mac turned to Stella resting his elbows on his desk. "So how was your vacation?"

She leaned cheekily across his desk. "Fantastic. You know you should try it some time!" She giggled as Mac threw her a dirty look. "Did you miss me?"

"Of course!" Mac replied diplomatically keeping his face intentionally neutral though he had to admit to himself that it was good to have her back. "Come on let's go see Sid," he added before she could could start grilling him about how much time he had spent at the office and how much sleep he hadn't had. Clearly he wasn't getting enough if this morning's events were anything to go by. He shook off the irrational feeling of fear that suddenly washed over him. He glanced at his coat pocket where he put the photograph for safe-keeping before heading for the elevator.

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He worked steadily throughout the morning until a large brown bag was dumped on top of his file. He looked up to see Stella standing there with a disapproving look, her corkscrew curls bouncing up and down frantically. He glanced at the clock and was astonished to see that it was almost three. He opened his mouth to say something but Stella beat him to it. "This ..." She pointed a beautifully manicured nail at the bag. "... is called food. It has been scientifically proven that human beings require it to continue functioning. Despite rumours to the contrary I know you are human therefore you need food." Mac had the decency and the common sense to nod and look humble. "What the hell did you do while I was away last week?" Mac opened his mouth. "No don't answer that because I know what you did. On Monday, the team accidentally on purpose ordered too much pizza in the evening before they left and gave you some. On Tuesday, Don took you to a diner after you and he checked out that warehouse for the Riley case. On Wednesday Lindsay witnessed you buy a sandwich from the vending machine at four o'clock ..." She emphasized the four. Mac held up a hand.

"Okay, okay … it was a busy week. I'm sorry. And thank you." Mac looked at her intently, his sea-green eyes turning dark as an Atlantic storm. Stella sighed feeling that she could so easily lose herself in those eyes. He looked tired and she had seen him pinch the bridge of his nose several times. She knew he had a headache.

Before she could berate him any more, Sheldon came in. He too looked a little strained. "Okay Mac I have something for you. You can eat your lunch while I fill you in." The latter statement sounded more like an order but the tempting smell coming from the bag made Mac decide that sometimes compliance was the easier option so he pushed his files to one side and opened the bag. He smiled as he saw two boxes and a pair of chopsticks from Señor Chow's. His favourite and he nodded his thanks as Stella perched herself on the edge of the desk with a look of smug satisfaction leaving Sheldon to sit himself down opposite Mac.

"Okay first of all. Sid confirms time and method of death as I am sure you know. He pulled a latent print from the neck but there are no hits in AFIS. Whoever strangled him was strong with big hands. Now those black smudges ..." Sheldon held out a file for Mac but Stella intercepted it and looked pointedly at the Spicy Orange Chicken. Mac obediently picked up the chopsticks and the box. He threw Sheldon a '_I'd better do as I'm told_' look and Sheldon attempted to cover a smirk.

"A mixture of oil and silicone grease with traces of soot," murmured Stella as her forehead creased in concentration.

Sheldon nodded. "The oil is consistent with Number 2 heating oil, something that would be used in an old furnace for example. The silicone grease is the kind used widely by the plumbing industry in faucets and seals. I am working on the soot but it seems to be a highly degraded sample, probably from an old chimney. I'd have to run further tests to narrow it down. You get anywhere with that picture?" Sheldon gestured to the photograph on the edge of Mac's desk. Stella picked it up.

Mac looked up from his lunch and paused. That strange feeling came over him again. He suddenly felt hot yet he shivered as though he were cold, a shiver that didn't go unnoticed by the doctor sitting opposite him. The nagging headache deepened a little and again a sensation of fear and dread flooded through him.

"Mac?" He realized that Stella and Sheldon were staring at him but before he could say anything the phone rang. He answered it with a curt Taylor. He listened intently for a while and then thanked Don.

"Okay Don ran background checks on our victim. Nothing stands out. He's a good hard-working family man. No financial issues. Business is going well. There appears to be no motive for anyone wishing him harm and no one has any idea why he would be at that address. Don showed a copy of that photograph to his wife but she has no idea who she is. According to her, her husband had little family and the wife says she met them all and that the photograph doesn't resemble any of them. I also showed it to the neighbour Mrs Jackson but she didn't recognize her either."

"Well that doesn't get us anywhere." Stella's curls bounced as she glared at Mac who obediently picked up his Spicy Orange Chicken again. "What about the trace from under his nails?"

Sheldon shrugged. "Dead end. Black wool fibres, the type you get in a wool coat or jacket but without something to compare it to ..."

Mac nodded and swallowed a mouthful of the chicken as he reached for a bottle of water. "But there is one thing that is intriguing ..." They both looked at him. "The keys ..." He pulled photographs of the keys he had retrieved from the victim's pocket earlier. "The first set are your standard set of keys ..." He pointed to each key as he spoke. "Home, office - customer entrance and back door, filing cabinet and car. Arnie … Officer Graves … confirmed that his car was parked just across the street. It's being towed to the pound as we speak." Mac put the second photograph on top of the first. "Second set of keys – on the surface they all look almost identical and new but there are slight differences in the form of the key." Stella and Sheldon looked more closely. "They're skeleton keys." Two sets of eyes jerked upwards to look at him. "I processed them and they only have our vic's prints on them ..." Mac grinned as he paused. " … plus one other."

"Mac!" Stella squealed. "You know I hate it when you do that."

"Do what?" Mac attempted to look innocent but judging from the look on her face he decided that he had better spill before she found an alternative use for the conveniently placed chopsticks. "They belong to Benny Moran."

"OH!" Sheldon looked at Stella in amazement. "One of these days I am going to lock up that little rat and throw away the keys."

Mac sniggered. "Keys …?"

"Oh funny!" Stella swatted him on the arm as she caught Sheldon's look. "I've arrested Benny Moran a dozen times. He's a supposedly bona-fide locksmith who just happens to moonlight as a pick-pocket, a petty thief, a fence for stolen goods … and … oh, I could go on ad infinitum."

Sheldon glanced at Mac who laughed. "You know it's bad when she spouts Greek but when she starts on the Latin!" Mac pulled a face and Sheldon attempted to cover up his laughter. Stella jumped off the desk glaring at Mac and grabbed the photograph of the keys and stormed out of the office declaring she was going to have words with the unfortunate Mr Moran.

"You're letting her go on her own?" Sheldon looked at Mac.

"Oh trust me, she's more than a match for Benny. Don't worry she doesn't know it but Don's going to be waiting for her." Mac picked up the chicken but a slight wave of nausea washed over him. He folded the lid and put it back in the bag deciding to finish it later.

"You sure you're feeling okay Mac? You're not coming down with something?" Mac looked at Sheldon who seemed genuinely concerned.

"I'm fine Sheldon, thanks. Let me know if you get anything on the soot or from the clothes." Sheldon nodded and got up but he couldn't help feeling Mac was lying.

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**A/N Will try to post another chapter tomorrow morning.**


	5. The Building

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**Chapter 4**

Stella pulled up outside the small shop to find Flack leaning on the hood of his car. He grinned at her. "Just here to make sure you're going to behave yourself." Stella favoured him with an icy look and a toss of head but she didn't say anything as he followed her into the locksmiths. On hearing the bell a short man with a narrow face, greasy hair and small beady eyes pushed through a bead curtain at the back of the shop and froze, his face a mask of horror.

He put on a fake smile. "Detective Bonasera, how nice to see you again. What can I do for you?" Don could almost smell the fear radiating off him. He folded his arms and smirked. He was going to enjoy watching Stella make mincemeat out of him.

Stella stalked up to the counter and slammed the photograph down. She towered over him and looked at him pointedly. Benny glanced at the photograph, his eyes widening a little. Stella could tell he recognized them. "Benny, don't even think about lying to me." He swallowed nervously. "You made these keys didn't you?" He cowered as she leaned forward.

"Oh come on Detective Bonasera. I'm going straight now. I'm out of that business."

Stella slammed both hands on the desk and leaned further towards him. Don was convinced that the little man was about to topple backwards. "What did I just say about lying to me?"

"Okay, okay, I made them but it's not what you think..." Stella's eyebrows rose. "... I made them to help out a friend." Stella straightened up, a sceptical look on her face. Just when she thought she had heard it all.

"And who might this friend be?"

"Mark … Mark Browning." Stella and Don looked at one another.

Don stepped up beside Stella. "You made Mark Browning a set of skeleton keys?"

Benny nodded nervously. "Look, I just wanted to help him out. Help him find out who was killing his clients."

"What?" The two detectives couldn't believe their ears. "What do you mean killing his clients?"

"Mark came to me a couple of weeks ago. He said that he had had several clients who had all lived in the same building. He thought their deaths were suspicious. He wanted me to help him get in the building to check it out. He said the apartments were empty so it wasn't like he was breaking and entering or robbing the place or anything. He just wanted to look around. He gave me pictures of the locks and I made him the keys. I couldn't tell exactly what kind of locks they were from photos so I gave him a whole set."

Stella looked at him carefully but he appeared to be telling the truth. "Why did Mark think their deaths were suspicious? Why didn't he go to the police if he thought something was wrong?"

Benny looked embarrassed. "He did but they laughed at him. The coroner's reports all said they died of natural causes and they were all elderly. One of them was almost ninety. But Mark was convinced there was something else."

"Why?"

"Because he said they looked too healthy to be dead." Don and Stella just stared at him. "Go on you ask him." Benny looked at them his head swinging back and forth as his beady eyes looked at their faces. "What?"

Stella's face fell as she looked at him. "Benny, Mark's dead." Her heart almost broke as she looked at him.

"No!" His face crumpled and tears came to his eyes. "No. No. He can't be. I only talked to him last night. We're going for a drink after work tonight. He can't be dead." He looked at their faces again and the truth began to sink in. "No Mark's my friend. He can't be ..." He backed away from the counter until his back was against the wall and he slowly slid down until he was sitting on the floor, his body racked with sobs.

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They rode back to the lab in separate cars. Don paused outside the elevator as he waited for Stella to join him. He looked at her and could see she was as perplexed as he was. "Okay, was that the most surreal conversation you've ever had? How can somebody dead look too healthy?"

Stella shrugged. To be honest all she could think about was the look on Benny's face. She had blown in there all hot and angry and ready to rip him apart and to see him break down like that had shocked her to the core. They rode the elevator in silence until they reached the lab. They walked past Mac's office but he was nowhere to be seen. They went in search of Sheldon but found Danny and Lindsay in layout poring over a sample in a Petri dish.

"Have you seen Mac or Sheldon?" asked Stella as they looked up.

"Yeah, Sheldon went back down to see Sid. Mac's in his office." Danny looked at Stella who looked a little drawn. "You okay Stella?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," she answered unwittingly copying Mac's usual phrase as she turned on her heel and walked out. Danny and Lindsay exchanged glances and returned their attention to the strange mould growing in their Petri dish. Stella went back to Mac's office where Don was waiting. "Sheldon's down with Sid. Mac must be around somewhere. He's left his light on and his files open."

Don nodded with his head. "His coat's gone." Stella looked at the hat stand in the corner of his office. It was empty and his kit wasn't there either. Stella frowned.

"Do you remember if Mac came back with his kit this morning?"

Don looked surprised by the question. He thought for a moment. "Er no! Well now you come to mention it, no I don't think he did. I remember him hanging up his coat when I told him about the coffins but I don't recall seeing his kit. Why?"

"I dunno. It just seems odd."

Don shrugged. "Maybe he left it in the Avalanche. Here's Sheldon." They were surprised to see Sheldon almost running down the corridor with Sid following him, a worried frown on his face.

"Don, are you feeling all right?" Sheldon walked straight up to him and looked at him intently. "Headaches? Flu like symptoms?" Puzzled, Don shook his head.

"No why, what's up?"

Sheldon and Sid exchanged glances. "Who else was at the crime scene apart from you and Mac? Who else was in the building?"

Don suddenly felt a cold chill come over him not liking where this conversation was going. "Er … Arnie Graves and his partner, Joe Dean were the first responders. Other than that Mac was the only one there until you and Sid's guys turned up to remove the body. As far as the residents, there's only Mrs Jackson and Kim Jennings who actually live there now. Why?"

Sid ran a hand through his hair. "Mrs Browning just came in to make the formal identification. She said something that struck me as odd. She said that he didn't look dead. He looked just as though he were sleeping. Then I realized that his cheeks were rosy." Sid looked at them but Don and Stella stared blankly at him.

"Normally he should be pale and bluish. I ran additional tests and his carboxyhemoglobin blood saturation was almost thirty per cent." Stella gasped and Don looked at them.

"English please."

"Don, Mark Browning was suffering from carbon-monoxide poisoning." Stella's voice was almost a whisper as her fevered brain tried to put all the pieces together.

Don stared at Sheldon in amazement. "Whoa, are you telling me he was poisoned not strangled?"

Sid shook his head, his hands flapping wildly. "No, no. I stick by my initial findings. Mark Browning died from strangulation but he was also exposed to high levels of carbon-monoxide before he died."

Stella's curls bobbed up and down as she lifted her hands. "Of course that's what he meant." She looked at Don. "Benny Moran said that Mark Browning was suspicious of the deaths of several clients from that building because they all looked too healthy. "

Sheldon nodded. "Symptoms of acute carbon monoxide poisoning include headache, nausea, fatigue and a general feeling of being unwell. But they are often mistaken for flu or a stomach bug. Headache is the most common symptom but continued exposure produces cardiac abnormalities and central nervous system symptoms like dizziness, confusion, even hallucinations and seizures. In severe cases victims lose consciousness, and eventually succumb to respiratory arrest leading to death. Carbon-monoxide poisoning is extremely difficult to diagnose unless you are specifically looking for it. In fact signs of carbon monoxide poisoning is more often seen in the dead rather than the living. Carbon-monoxide poisoned people are often described as looking pink-cheeked and healthy."

Don looked stunned as Stella drew herself up. "Okay we have to get Mrs Jackson and Kim Jennings out of that building now. Don get onto the FDNY and EMT and apprise them of the situation then, you, Sheldon, Arnie Graves, Joe Dean, and Sid, your two guys who picked up the body need to get checked out. I'm going to get onto environmental services and the housing department. We have to find the source of the carbon monoxide."

"Where's Mac?" They all froze at the urgency in Sheldon's voice and they felt their hearts skip a beat at his next words. "He was in that building longer than any of us. He has to have been exposed. He was clearly feeling unwell earlier. We need to get him checked out first." Stella pulled her phone from her pocket and hit the speed-dial for Mac. She hadn't even raised the phone to her ear before they all heard Mac's familiar ring tone. Don walked over to his desk and moved some files. He stared at the the glowing screen announcing Stella's call and swore gently under his breath.

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**A/N Next update on Monday, unless I can find an hour to proof-read tomorrow.**


	6. The Discovery

**_A/N : As you asked so nicely ..._  
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**Chapter 5**

Arnie Graves was glad to be on his way home. He huddled into his jacket and decided it was going to be a long cold winter. Another year and he would be eligible for retirement on a full pension. He was looking forward to that. As he rounded the corner he noticed a figure struggling with a bag. He speeded up his pace. "Mrs Jackson?" The figure turned around.

"Officer Graves. Hello."

Despite feeling his exhaustion in every bone and a dull, nagging headache that had plagued him most of the day, he felt sorry for the old lady living alone. "Here let me help you with that bag."

"Oh no, that's all right. I can manage. I don't want to take you out of your way." Arnie smiled at her and insisted, taking the bag from her hand. "Oh that's very kind but don't you live in the opposite direction?"

"I do but I want to pick up some bread and milk and I can easily do that from the bodega opposite your place as walk to the end of the street. It's no trouble and I could do with the fresh air to clear my head." He held out his arm with mock formality and she laughed as she leaned on it.

"Oh, I know what you mean. When I get one of my headaches I find taking a walk helps no end. I usually walk over to my friend Ingrid's place or to the store." She broke off as Arnie's radio crackled. He excused himself and answered it. He listened carefully. Mrs Jackson tried to make out the words but it just sounded like a lot of static to her. Suddenly she realized that the policeman was staring at her strangely. She waited for him to finish the call. "Is everything all right? Do you need to go? I can manage you know."

"No Mrs Jackson, everything's not all right." He took her arm again. "We need to get back to your building right now. You said you get headaches? Do you get them often?"

"That depends. I find I get them more in the winter. It's the cold you know though they always seem to get better when I'm out. Why do ask?"

"Because Mrs Jackson, you're being poisoned." If the situation hadn't been so serious Arnie would have laughed at the look on the old woman's face. He walked her as quickly as he could. As they rounded the corner they were already surprised to see a fire engine and an ambulance. Arnie walked Mrs Jackson up to one of the paramedics. He explained the situation and leaving the old woman with him, he went over to the fire chief.

"Arnie!" Joshua Lines raised a hand in greeting as he recognized the ageing patrol-man. "We just got here. We've already got the young woman out. I take it that's Mrs Jackson?" He looked over to the ambulance where a paramedic was explaining to her how to use a breath CO monitor. They watched her breathe into the device. "I've got two of my men checking the basement. It's most likely that this is due to the furnace. It's got to be thirty years old. Do you know if there's a building supervisor?"

"Yeah, there's a caretaker, a Mr Lester. He lives down the block but he maintains the building." Arnie caught the disgusted look on the Captain's face. "Yeah … I guess he isn't doing much of that these days what with it about to be knocked down and all."

The fire chief's radio crackled. He answered and listened. "Okay shut it down and get out. My boys say that the CO levels down there are off the scale. I'm going to see what the paramedics are saying. Arnie? Don't forget you need to get checked out too. Ah that looks like Detectives Flack and Bonasera. They're the ones who gave us a heads up." He patted Arnie on the shoulder and took off towards the car on the other side of the road as Don and Stella got out and rushed towards him.

Arnie stood staring at the building for a second and then turned towards the paramedics. He noticed Flack and the fire chief take off in the opposite direction towards the building where the care-taker lived. Stella was walking towards him. He was about to say something when she stopped dead in the middle of the street, her mouth open in surprise. He realized that she was looking beyond him so he turned to see what she was looking at. His eyes scanned the street, at first not noticing anything unusual until his eyes alighted on a car parked several yards away. A car that looked suspiciously like the one he had seen earlier that morning. He turned back to Stella and saw that she was running into the building. Without thinking, he pounded after her.

He took the stairs two at a time following her up to the third floor. She paused at the top looking around and tried the first door.

"No to your left." Arnie wheezed as he joined her. Stella jumped as he called out. She looked to her left and realized that the door was slightly ajar. She pushed it open and froze. Arnie joined her and he felt his heart stop. It was like déjà-vu only this time the man that lay on the bare floorboards with his arms loosely by his sides, and his head slightly turned as though staring at the fire, wasn't Mark Browning. It was Mac Taylor.

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Stella paced nervously like a caged cat. Don sat on the edge of the hospital bed with a blood-pressure cuff around his arm. He barely gave the nurse a glance as she pronounced it was normal and he was clear to go. He looked over at Arnie, Mrs Jackson and Kim Jennings who were leaning back on their beds with oxygen masks on. He sighed. At least Arnie's partner Joe and the two men from the M.E.s office were clear. Fortunately they had spent even less time in the building than he had. He watched Stella as he rolled down his shirt sleeve and fastened the cuff. She almost pounced on the nurse that came through the swing doors behind her.

"Do you have any news on Mac Taylor?"

"Yes, he's coming around now. Would you come with me?" Don watched Stella leave with the petite blonde. He grabbed his jacket and followed her through the doors. He watched her stride down the corridor.

"Don!" Sheldon Hawkes came through the door opposite him and closed it behind him. He held out a small device. Don peered at the screen and the fingerprint there. "It's a match."

"Sonofabitch!" Don pushed past Sheldon and entered the room he had just come from. He sensed Sheldon come in behind him. They both glared at the large scruffy man in the dirty jeans and black sweater hand-cuffed to the chair. "Ronald Lester, you are under arrest for the murders of Charlie Watson, April Jones, Henry Grant, Luis Ortega ..."

"I didn't murder them … they were old," spluttered the man rubbing at his nose with the back of his sleeve. "They just died!"

"... and Mark Browning."

"Who? I don't know any Mark Browning," he snarled as he shuffled uncomfortably on the chair, his eyes flicking back and forth between Don and Sheldon who was stood just inside the door with his arms folded and a hard look in his eyes.

"Mark Browning was the name of the man you strangled this morning." Don glared at Ronald Lester. "Don't deny it, we have your fingerprints on his neck."

"Not to mention oil from the furnace you were supposed to maintain," snarled Sheldon. "And if that wasn't enough we have fibres from your coat ..." He pointed at the heavy black coat thrown over the arm of the chair. " … and traces of grease from the sink you were repairing yesterday. And this ..." Sheldon held up a bag.

Don tipped his head towards the bag. "You took this off Mark Browning after you killed him. My guys found it in a dumpster in the alley outside your apartment. Do you now what this is?" Lester looked sullen. "It's a CO monitor. Mark Browning was testing the apartments for carbon monoxide. What happened? Did you see a light? You wandered up and caught him? He accused you of killing those people?"

A look of irritation passed over Lester's face. "The guy was crazy. I didn't kill those people."

Sheldon looked at him with disgust. "You didn't maintain the furnace like you were supposed to. You didn't get it inspected."

"What was the point? They were going to tear down the building anyway."

"And in the meantime you pocketed the money and just left it. The build up of carbon monoxide in the apartment where we found Mark Browning's body was thirty times the acceptable limits. If it hadn't been for the broken window and a blocked vent in Mrs Jackson's apartment she would have died too. "

"She was old. She would have died anyway." Don and Sheldon stared at the man in disbelief. Suddenly Don whirled around and threw open the door. Sheldon followed him closing the door behind him.

"Unbelievable! Piece of shit! I wanna ..."

"Don calm down. We've got him. We have enough evidence to get him for Browning's murder and for causing the deaths of the other victims." Sheldon took a deep breath at the look of despair on Don's face as he stared down the corridor where Stella had gone earlier. He knew what Don was thinking. "He's going to be okay Don." Sheldon placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "He's going to be okay."

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	7. The Fall-out

**_A/N : Sorry a bit of a filler. This is turning out to be longer than I expected ..._  
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Stella followed the nurse down what seemed to be endless corridors separated by endless fire-doors. At last she stopped in front of an un-marked white door, ran a badge through a card reader on the wall and pushed open the door holding it for Stella to follow. Stella found herself in a small office with a waiting room on one side with three chairs placed against the wall. A small table held magazines and there was a box of children's toys on the floor. For a moment Stella thought she was in a dentist's surgery. The door opposite opened and a middle-aged man with bright blue eyes, half-moon glasses and a clip-board came through.

"Ah splendid! You must be Detective Bonasera." He held out a hand and grasped her hand firmly. "I'm Doctor Dawnay. Detective Taylor is coming around. He's bound to be a little confused so I thought it would be good to have someone he knows there. Now don't be put off by the equipment. I know it can seem a little daunting at first but don't worry he's doing quite nicely..." He held out the door for her.

Stella took a deep breath and stepped through into a large room that looked like an operating theatre with the exception of the large machine in the centre of the room. Stella's eyes opened wide as she walked slowly towards the huge glass tube sitting at waist height on a grey steel base. As she peered through the glass, she gasped. Mac lay with his eyes closed. His chest was bare with four pads attached to it, the scar that she had seen just once before stark against his flushed skin. A blood pressure cuff around his upper arm suddenly inflated. His cheeks looked rosy and his eyelids fluttered. He opened them briefly before closing them again. His hand moved slightly as though sensing the pressure from the cuff which deflated slowly.

"Just give him a little time." Stella sensed the doctor standing just behind her out of Mac's field of vision. "Ah! Blood pressure's much better."

Mac blinked and frowned as though in pain. He blinked again and opened his eyes. They darted around as he took in his surroundings. Suddenly his hand lifted and slammed against the side of the tube. Stella automatically put her hand over his frustrated at the thick layer of transparent material between them.

"Mac, it's okay."

"He can't hear you my dear. Use the handset."

Stella looked down at the control panel that ran the length of the machine. Among the switches and dials was an old-fashioned telephone receiver. She picked it up and held it to her ear.

"Mac, it's Stella. It's okay." Slowly she could see his eyes focus on her. His face spoke of his confusion and she heard him whisper her name. "Just try to relax. You're in a hyperbaric oxygen chamber. You've been exposed to carbon monoxide." She felt a tap on her shoulder and she reluctantly handed the receiver to the doctor.

"I'm Doctor Dawnay. Can you tell me your name?" Stella watched Mac's lips move. "Good. Do you know where you are?" Mac's lips mouthed hospital though his eyes showed his uncertainty. "That's right. Did you understand what Detective Bonasera just told you? You're in a hyperbaric oxygen chamber. You're suffering from carbon monoxide poisoning." The doctor repeated speaking as though to a child. Mac nodded. "Good, your heart rate and blood pressure are returning to normal. Can you tell me how you are feeling?" Stella watched Mac's lips form the words headache, dizzy and nausea. The doctor nodded. "That's quite normal. Try to relax and breathe normally. If you feel pressure in your ears just wriggle your jaw like this." The doctor wriggled his jaw from side to side. Mac copied him.

"Better?" Mac nodded. "Okay. You need to stay there a little longer and then we'll get you transferred to a recovery room. I'm going to hand you back to your good friend here." The doctor passed over the receiver and smiled at Stella noting that neither of them had moved their hands from the perspex casing. "Just keep chatting to him. I'd rather he didn't go back to sleep. His carboxyhemoglobin blood saturation level is still a little high. I'd like it to be a little lower before we move him. Another twenty minutes I think and then we can transfer him to a normal oxygen supply. Here sit down and make yourself as comfortable as possible." He pushed a chair towards her and she sat down. The doctor smiled to himself again. Her eyes never left those of his patient who turned his head to look at her as she sat down. "Splendid. I'll leave you alone for a bit then." She didn't answer. "Splendid!"

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Arnie Graves tapped gently on the window. He smiled as Stella got up from the chair and quietly made her way over to the door. She closed the door gently behind her. "How's he doin'?" Arnie peered through the glass at the sleeping figure propped up in the bed.

"The doctors think he's going to be fine." Stella smiled weakly at him. Her stomach was still churning from the stress of the day. "We got to him in time."

"Thank the Lord for that." Arnie looked profoundly relieved. He could have left the hospital hours ago but he had wanted to wait, to make sure Mac was all right. "Flack told me to tell you that he will be back as soon as he's processed Ronald Lester. Oh … er … these are Mac's. I wasn't sure what to do with them." Arnie held out a silver case and a slip of thick white paper.

"Oh! I'll take them. Thanks Arnie." Stella looked at the paper and for reasons she couldn't explain she shuddered at the sight of the handsome young woman in the high-necked dress. "Er Arnie ... where did you find this?"

"Oh it was on the floor. It fell from his hand when the paramedics took him. You okay Stella?" Stella looked up to see Arnie's face full of concern.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine." She smiled reassuringly even though she felt the photograph heavy in her hand.

"You did get checked out didn't you?" Stella smiled and assured him that she had. After all she had only been in the building for a matter of minutes. With one last look at his friend, he wished her good night and shuffled off down the corridor. Stella watched him for a few seconds and then quietly went back into Mac's room, stowing the case by the night-stand and placing the photograph reluctantly next to the glass of water. She looked over at Mac squinting in the dim light. His brow was drawn into a frown. His forehead was covered in a light sheen and she could see his eyes moving rapidly under his lids. He moaned slightly.

Gently she reached out and touched his face. He felt hot. She frowned and felt his hand. That felt hot too. She was about to leave when Mac moaned again. He was clearly dreaming.

"No … no!" His voice was low and his face contorted as though in pain. Gently Stella brushed away the damp curls from his forehead but he pulled away from her. "No … please … no." His word sounded so tortured that Stella jumped.

"Mac?" She rubbed his arm. "Mac, you're dreaming. Mac? Mac!" She shook him. "Mac, wake up." He moaned but didn't open his eyes. She could hear something rattling in his chest as he breathed. Gripping his wrist Stella could feel his heart rate which seemed too rapid for her liking. She pressed the button by his bedside. A few seconds later a nurse came in.

"Is everything all right?" She began but then she saw the panicked look on Stella's face. She rushed over to her patient. She looked him over and quickly put one hand to his forehead and felt for a pulse with her other. "He's burning up. I'm going to get the doctor."

The next half hour seemed to be a flurry of activity that Stella was forced to witness from the other side of the glass partition. Finally the doctor came out. "Detective Bonasera?"

"What's wrong?"

"Well ..." The doctor looked at her strangely for a moment. He wasn't entirely sure. " He seems to displaying symptoms of pneumonia. I need to take an x-ray to be sure. Although it is one of the less common symptoms of acute carbon monoxide poisoning, it is not unheard of. I'm going to put him back on some oxygen and give him something to bring down the fever. Er … he's sleeping peacefully at the moment. I suggest you take this opportunity to get some rest yourself." He held up a hand to stop her protesting. "It's late and you're no good to him if you are exhausted. We'll be keeping a very close eye on him. You can rest assured." Seeing the determination in the doctor's face Stella nodded reluctantly and the doctor watched her leave. He turned back to his patient. It was strange that he still appeared to be dreaming. He knew that severe delayed neurological manifestations could occur with acute CO poisoning. He prayed that that would not be the case here. The nurse arrived with the medication. Doctor Dawnay regained his patient's bedside and administered the drugs while the nurse prepared an oxygen mask to place over his mouth and nose. Just before she did so the doctor heard his patient mutter something. He frowned. Perhaps it was Stella's name he had muttered but it sounded more like '_Anna_'.

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	8. The Aftermath

The drugs did their job and several days passed before the doctor finally agreed to release him. And it was several days after that that he finally got back to work. He had hardly had time to catch up on his paperwork before they were plunged into another case. And yet another. To any casual observer it looked like he had made a full recovery although he seemed quieter and more intense but the team put that down to the sudden deluge of cases and the mounting pile of files on his desk. As the holidays approached and the weather got more inclement, the cases eased off. It seemed like the criminals had decided to stay home rather than venture out in the bitter cold. No one was sorry. The atmosphere lightened up a bit but they watched him continue to work doggedly through the backlog of cases, budget recommendations, purchase requests, personnel reviews and sundry other mundane tasks required of the head of the crime lab. He should have had time to take it easier, take some time off, not work such late nights or look like he had spent the whole night working when he arrived in the morning. But each days that went past seemed to age him, making him look haggard and … well no one dared to voice the word … haunted.

She had asked him if he was okay. They all had. He answered with his ubiquitous fine and that movement of the lips that was a smile but not one that reached his eyes. He was fine. He was always fine. And gradually they all believed it. Then one evening something happened to make her sit up and take notice, something that made her realize that something was wrong, that there was a problem. It was the photograph. It was the woman. The woman with the high-necked collar and the flowers in her hair.

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Stella had been working on an audio file in the AV lab with the new young lab tech Adam. He'd been working for them for about six months and he seemed to have a strange love-hate relationship with Mac. Stella secretly liked watching him shuffle nervously and stammer every time Mac asked him for anything and then grin like he'd won the lottery every time Mac thanked him or praised his work. He was sweet and Stella had to confess to having a bit of a soft spot for the shy, awkward young man.

With a pen clamped between his teeth, Adam was cleaning up the file for her, trying to eliminate the static and background noise when a computer bleeped at the far side of the lab. Adam immediately stopped what he was doing and stared at the machine in question. The pen fell out of his mouth into his hand. "No way!" He pushed the chair away from the desk and scooted over to the other keyboard while Stella looked on open-mouthed, astonished that he had just dropped what he was doing for her. Adam tapped away at the keyboard, gave a small strangled squeal of joy and stabbed a finger at the mouse key. The printer whirred to life and spat out a sheet of paper. Adam grabbed it and then jumped up. Stella could tell that he was about to run out when he realized that she was still sitting there. It was almost as though he had forgotten her in his enthusiasm over whatever it was that the computer had found. "Oh er Stella … er … right … can you ... just hold on … er … two seconds … er ..." Adam's eyes flicked towards Mac's office where he was reviewing some files with Lindsay. He watched her leave. "... er … two seconds. I'll be right back."

Adam ran over to Mac's office and up to him without even knocking. Stella almost fell off her chair in surprise. Normally he paced up and down lurking in the doorway until Mac noticed and waved him in and then he would stand as far away from the desk as he could until he said what he needed to say before scampering out as quickly as possible. This time Adam ran straight up to Mac and stuck the paper under his nose. Mac looked at Adam clearly surprised and then at the proffered paper. Slowly Mac took the paper and pulled open his drawer, took something out and they both flicked their heads as though comparing the two items. Stella could see Mac's chest rise and fall as he sighed, a strange look coming over his face like a mixture of relief and fear. He smiled at Adam and said something. Whatever it was pleased the young man enormously as he returned to the AV lab grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Sorry Stella, now where were we? Oh yes, all I need to do is boost the bass and remove that high-pitched noise and perhaps we can hear what our vic is saying." Stella was only half listening as she watched Mac sit slowly in his chair still staring at the paper Adam had given him. She watched as he placed the smaller piece of paper against the lamp on his desk. He pulled out a new buff folder from his drawer, wrote something on it, put the print-out inside it and placed it in his drawer. Then he turned his chair to stare out of the window. "Stella?" Stella jumped as Adam looked at her. "So you want to hear it now or you just want me to send you a copy of it?"

"Oh … er … a copy will be fine. It's getting late. You should finish up. Thanks Adam. That's great." Adam smiled shyly and told her she was welcome.

She went back to her office and shuffled paper waiting until everyone had left and then she made her way to Mac's office. She immediately felt guilty but she quietly opened the door and walked up to the lamp. She wasn't surprised to see the photograph sitting there. Somehow she had known all along. She spent a full minute staring at the young woman in the high-necked dress then she walked round his desk and pulled out the chair and slid into it. Stella's heart pounded as she opened the drawer in his desk and saw the file she had seen him put away earlier. "Anna Gray."

It was then that Stella knew for sure that the woman had become an obsession, that she filled his thoughts when he wasn't working on a case or trawling his way through the piles of paperwork on his desk. As the days went by Stella would catch him looking at the photograph propped up against the lamp or going through the thin file that was becoming dog-eared with handling. Once or twice she had asked him about her but he assured her that he had merely been curious and that it was a cold case and not worth spending time on. She knew he was lying. He couldn't leave it alone and every night he worked late trying to find out something about the woman in the photograph. And Stella started to do something she hated. She started spying on him.

The first time she had seen the file in his drawer, she hadn't dared to take it out and open it. The name on the front was enough. The second time she'd seen it, he had hurriedly hidden it away surprised to find her still in the office at that late hour. The third time was when she had got back late from a meeting at the D.A.'s and she had stopped off for coffee and a bagel having missed lunch. She had been surprised to see him trudge past the coffee shop through the slush and cold with the file under his arm. She hadn't meant to follow him. She hadn't wanted to spy on him but somehow she had to know where he was going. She wasn't really surprised when he went back to the building that had been emptied. The workmen had boarded up the windows and bricked in the door. A small notice was fixed to the outside. She stood in the doorway watching him. He must have stayed ten minutes that first time. It was only after his sixth visit that she decided she had to look at the file.

She waited until he had left and walked down the silent empty corridor to his office. She hesitated for a second hating what she was doing then she resolutely pulled open the drawer. The file was still there though it was no longer new looking. She opened it and looked at the paper inside.

"Anna Gray" She read it out loud. There was no one around to hear. She looked at the photograph printed in the corner of the sheet. It was similar to the one by the lamp but less formal. There was no doubt that she was pretty with soft blond curls, rosebud lips and laughing eyes. Somehow she looked so much sadder in the picture by the lamp. Stella continued to read. "Twenty two from Portland. Reported missing 13th October 1962. Parents Charles and Alice Gray. No siblings. Fiancé Paul Michael Rushton. Left the family home on the eve of her engagement party." Stella read through the rest of the file. There wasn't much. They had posted her picture at all the usual spots, interviewed her family and her friends but nothing had turned up any clue as to what had happened to her. The fiancé had been devastated. The months went past. Months turned into years and the case went cold. According to Mac's notes, his neat precise print etched in the margins of the paper, Charles and Alice Gray had died in 1984 and 1992 respectively. Paul Michael Rushton had eventually married in 1978. He had three children and had worked all his life as a dentist in Portland.

Stella sighed. Why was he looking at this? Why did he keep going back to that building? Stella turned the paper over idly and looked at the second sheet. She sat up and blinked. The second page was a sketch of a woman. Her long hair was splayed out on the floor, her arms by her side, her head turned slightly as though looking at the fire. She wore a long blue dress with a scoop neck. Obviously the woman was supposed to be Anna. The features were finely drawn and clearly hers. She lay next to a green rug. A small black ball that looked like a sleeping cat lay next to the hearth and and there was a kettle on an old-fashioned stove in the fireplace. Stella twisted the picture to study it and she noticed the photograph beneath it. It was the crime scene photo of Mark Browning. Stella compared the two. They were almost identical except for the person lying in the centre of the floor. Stella shuddered as she recalled the way she had discovered Mac lying there overcome by the carbon monoxide. Clearly the sketch had been made to emulate the photograph. But why?

"What are you doing?" Stella almost shot out of the chair.

"Oh my God! Don! You scared the hell out of me!"

Don grinned. "Why? Did ya' think I was Mac, catching you looking through his stuff?" He walked over to her and looked down at the pictures she had been looking at. Stella watched him carefully as the smile fell away from his face when he turned them round. Then he looked at the sheet on Anna Gray. "What the hell is he doing Stell?" Stella was shocked at the pain in his voice.

"I don't know Don."

"I take it you know he keeps going back there?" He didn't look at her. He just kept looking down at the sketch.

Stella was surprised. "How did you know?"

Don lifted his eyes and she could see the same confusion and fear she felt mirrored there. "You remember Arnie Graves?" Stella nodded. "Well I see him around every now and then. He doesn't live far from there and they moved Mrs Jackson, the old lady who found Mark Browning, into the building round the corner. He pops in from time to time to see how she's doing. He's seen Mac there twice. According to Arnie, he just stands there staring up at the building, the second time it was pouring with rain. Arnie told me Mac was soaked to the skin but he just stood there in the rain. He asked me if he was okay. I didn't answer. I didn't know what to say."

Stella ran a hand through her hair. "I don't know what to do Don. I can't get him to talk about it. He says it's nothing, that he looked into it out of idle curiosity but I know it's become an obsession. It's as though ever since he went to that building she's ... been haunting him!" She saw the look on Don's face and her shoulders sagged knowing how ridiculous she sounded. "You must think I'm losing it."

Don's voice was heavy as he spoke. "Stella I hate to say this but I don't think you're the one that's losing it."


	9. The Body in the Basement

Several days went past since her encounter with Don and the holidays got closer but Mac grew quieter than ever seemingly burying himself in paperwork in his office. The team seemed to sense something was wrong and one morning Danny sidled into Stella's office to ask if she thought Mac was okay. Was he suffering some kind of fall-out from the CO poisoning? Stella shrugged it off but she began to wonder. She decided to talk to Sheldon and sought him out during a quiet moment as he ate in the break room. She thought he would laugh at her but the former surgeon considered her question carefully and thoughtfully. He sighed almost as though he didn't want to answer. Her heart sank and she felt sick as she sat there listening to him explaining that severe delayed neurological manifestations can occur as a result of acute poisoning, problems like dementia, amnesia, psychosis, irritability, and depression. It was indeed possible that there could be some residual effects from the poisoning. She became more and more convinced that this could be the root of the problem but how to approach him, his health being a no-go area where Mac Taylor was concerned.

Stella decided she would sleep on it and approach Mac the next day. Perhaps they could have lunch. But that lunch never came. She got the call-out just as she was leaving. She had finished off her last case notes and she decided that she had time to do a little Christmas shopping. She had just closed her locker door when her phone rang. She was surprised to see it was Don and her stomach turned at the panic in his voice.

"Stella, you've got to come now. You're not going to believe it but the demolition crew have found a body. In the basement. You've got to come. You've got to get here before Mac does." She didn't have to ask where. She didn't need to look at the text message with the address. She made her way straight to the car and drove like the wind through the streets of New York, the car's flashing lights clearing a way before her. She pulled up next to Don's car and sprinted for the building flashing her badge at a uniformed officer on the door. She ran in through the front of the building. The door and it's frame had gone as had some of the inner walls. Huge bags of rubble lay in one corner while the whole façade was propped up with scaffolding. She spotted Don at the end of the corridor behind the stairs. He looked white as a sheet.

"I've called Sheldon too. He's on his way. Is Mac here yet?"

Don nodded. "He arrived a couple of minutes ago," he breathed. Stella took one look at his face and swore to herself as she plunged down the stairs, Don hot on her heels. Two workmen in hard-hats stood by some downed tools peering nervously through a doorway in the artificially-lit basement. Stella stepped over a jack-hammer and picked her way carefully into the boiler room. Mac was stood there looking at the broken pieces of the stone floor. He didn't even look up as she came in.

"It's her. It's Anna," he whispered.

"Mac, you can't know that ..." she broke off as he turned to face her angrily. Never had she seen him look so fierce. His eyes glittered but with what she dare not ask.

"It's Anna. He buried Suki too." Suddenly he pushed past her and Don barely glancing at him. He elbowed the two workmen out of the way as he ran up the stairs. Stella couldn't move. Her brain was having trouble accepting what had just occurred. As she stared at the door Sheldon Hawkes appeared, a puzzled expression on his face.

"What the hell has got into Mac? He just blew past me like the hounds of hell were on his heels."

Stella looked at him for a long moment at a loss for words before turning to look at the broken floor. Slowly she moved towards the hole where Mac had been stood and peered down. She gasped as she saw a flash of blue material and a skeletal hand, it's delicate bones laid gently on a dark black mass.

Don was the first to speak. "What did he mean? Buried Suki too?"

"What?" Stella stared at Don.

"Mac. He said: '_It's Anna. He buried Suki too._' Who's Suki?"

Sheldon's head flicked back and forth between them. "Who's Anna?"

.

.

.

The removal of the body took some time. They were even forced to call in Danny, Lindsay and Sid. Stone by stone, piece by piece, the team worked carefully and slowly to remove the broken slabs and the concrete, brushing aside the sand and dust until the body was at last completely uncovered. As they stood back Stella snapped some photographs. The skeleton was almost perfectly preserved under the layer of stones. There were remnants of hair and skin. The blue of the dress stood out among the grey dust and sand. She lay on her back, her arms by her sides, her head tilted slightly to the left. A matted black ball lay near her hip with what looked like a bag. Danny and Lindsay carefully lifted the bag onto a plastic sheet and delicately pulled out the contents, the years having rendered them as fragile as the bones they lay next to.

From among the clothes, Lindsay pulled out a book, a journal. With the utmost care she opened the first page. "My diary by Anna Gray," she read. Out of curiosity Sid probed the matt black ball of fluff covered in grey dust by her hand. He extracted something from it turning it in his hands.

"What is it Sid?" asked Don craning his neck to see better.

"It's a collar. Judging by it's size and the remains, I'd say a small black cat." He rubbed at something attached to the collar. "By the name of Suki!" Sid looked up. For a full minute no one said anything.

"How the hell did he know that?" Don seemed to pale as he spoke. "He could not know that."

Stella looked around the room. The team dressed in blue overalls, covered in dust and grime, exhaustion etched into their faces looked back at her, only their eyes betraying a mixture of confusion and fear. They didn't need to speak. She knew what she had to do.

.

.

.

Don nodded encouragingly as Stella's hand hovered over the door-bell. There was a sharp buzz as she pressed it and they waited. A few seconds later, Mac came to the door. If he was surprised to see them he didn't show it. He just stared at them for a few seconds and then nodded as though resigned to their presence. He turned away without a word leaving them to follow. He looked dreadful. His face was gaunt and grey. There were dark shadows under his eyes and he walked as though he were wearing lead boots. He sank into his chair as if his legs would no longer hold him up.

Don took Stella's coat and hung it up while Stella went to sit on a large leather stool next to Mac's chair. She didn't fail to notice the bottle of Scotch whisky and the half-empty glass by Mac's right hand. Her stomach turned over as she saw that three large measures were missing from the bottle. He didn't normally drink. Mac looked at her, his eyes full of sadness and despair. "I can't get her out of my mind," he whispered.

Stella reached out for his hand. It was frozen. She half expected him to pull away but he didn't. "I know ..." She rubbed it to try to get some warmth in it.

"Please Stella, you've got to help me." The pain in his voice and the confusion in his eyes were almost unbearable. Stella felt tears prick at her own eyes. Don joined them and sat on a chair opposite Mac, his face betraying his worry for the man who he had come to consider more than a colleague, more than a friend, the man who had saved his life.

"Talk to us Mac. Tell us what's going on. Please," he begged.

Mac nodded slowly. "Ever since I went to the crime scene and saw Mark Browning and the photograph ... I keep seeing her in my head."

"Anna Gray?"

Mac nodded as he swallowed and closed his eyes. "Anna. She's lying there on the wooden floor. She's looking at me." He paused and Stella encouraged him to go on. His voice grew softer and took on a distant tone as though he was far away. She could hear his exhaustion. "She's wearing a blue dress. Her hair is long and spread out around her and it's covered in blood. There's a green mat and a kettle on the stove. Suki's there all curled up. I can smell flowers … and smoke … and cigarettes. Someone's calling my name. I shouldn't be there."

Don and Stella exchanged glances. It wasn't the despair or the fear in his voice that perturbed them the most. It was the way he spoke, the way he used the present tense. It was almost as if he were there in that building that was now little more than a pile of rubble behind an empty façade, with a woman who had been dead for forty years, not with them sitting in his favourite leather armchair in his Manhattan apartment.

They just sat quietly for a moment. Stella gently rubbed his hand. She could see that Mac was utterly drained. He clearly hadn't slept. He almost appeared to be dozing lightly. He tried to open his eyes. "It's okay Mac. Just try to rest. Close your eyes for a few minutes." She kept rubbing his hand in slow gentle circles and turned to Don and mouthed. "I have an idea."

She turned back to Mac and keeping her voice low and soft, asked, "Mac?" He murmured. "I want you to think back to when you first went to the building. Imagine that you're standing outside looking up at it. Can you see it?" she asked as she held his hand in hers.

Mac replied quietly, a slight frown on his face. "Yes."

"Describe it to me." Don looked hard at Stella, a puzzled expression on his face, but she shook her head gently.

"It's big with lots of shiny windows and it has a big blue door." Don glanced at Stella and mouthed. "What?" She frowned and shook her head again.

"Go on. Open the door and go inside. Look around. What's it like?"

Mac's face softened a little. "There's a big dining room. There are lots of tables with blue and white cloths." Don's mouth opened a little wider. 'Dining room?' he mouthed. Stella glared at him but he could see a small smile spread across her lips.

"Mac I want you to go upstairs now. I want you to go to your room."

Mac's face took on an odd expression almost like a pout. For an instant Stella could imagine him as a small boy. "Do I have to?" Don's eyebrows shot up in surprise as he realized what Stella was doing.

Even Stella had to smile. "Yes you do. Tell me about your room."

"There's a big bed with a green cover and a big closet. The door squeaks."

"Why are you and your Mom staying there? Is it near the hospital?"

Mac frowned and he was silent for a minute. Stella could see his eyes moving beneath the lids. "Grandma's sick. We took her flowers." Stella heard Don mutter something under his breath but she was frightened of losing her rhythm so she ignored him.

"Mac I want you to go across the hall to the room on the other side." Mac shook his head. "It's okay. You're safe. Who's in the room at the other side?"

"The lady with the cat," he whispered. "She's nice. I play with Suki when Mom's at the hospital with Grandma." Mac's face took on a look of abject fear. "I don't want to go in there."

"It's okay Mac. You don't have to go in there. You're at home. You're safe. I want you to sleep now. Okay?" He nodded and sighed ever so slightly, his body released a little of the tension that had been slowly mounting over the weeks. Stella waited for a few minutes until his breathing was deep and even and then she gently released his hand and gestured to Don. They tiptoed over to the kitchen.

"What the hell was that?" Don blurted out. Stella shushed him. "Did you just hypnotize him?"

"No, of course not." Stella spat but her lips twitched a little. "It has been scientifically proven that memories 'recovered' under hypnotism are likely to be false" Stella peered at Mac to see if he had woken but he hadn't moved. Her face turned serious. "But I do believe his attending the crime scene triggered some sort of memory of an event he witnessed. It was the way he described her. He knew Suki. Don, Mac was there. He had to be. It was the only way he could know those things."

Stella almost giggled at the look on Don's face. She had a vision of a cartoon dog with it's eyes popping out of it's head. "Are you saying he witnessed Anna Gray's murder?" She could hear the incredulity in his voice.

Stella twisted her little finger deep in thought. "I don't know about witnessing it but he certainly saw her afterwards. The idea came to me last weekend. I couldn't stop thinking about why he drew her like that. Why add details like a green carpet and a cat and a kettle? Then I remembered something he told me once. I had asked him when he'd first come to New York. He said when he accompanied Claire to meet her family though he had been once before with his Mom when his Grandma was sick but he was too young to remember anything about it." Don leaned back against the counter and turned to look at Mac who was still sleeping. "I did a little checking. Before that building was converted into apartments it was a boarding house called the Carlisle. Believe it or not there's even a picture of it on the web in it's hey-day. The ground floor had a dining-room, a lounge and kitchen. The rest of the building were small rooms rented by the week. It was fairly cheap. Mac's family weren't rich. They wouldn't have stayed in a fancy hotel. The Carlisle is only two blocks from the hospital. I checked, his grandmother died in the same year that Anna Gray went missing."

Don shook his head in dismay scarcely able to believe what Stella was telling him despite the growing realization that it certainly explained a lot. "Do you think he can tell us what happened?"

Stella looked doubtful. "No, he was too young. He can't have been much more than six at the time. If we want to know what happened to Anna Gray, we going to have to let the science tell us." She looked over at Mac, her eyes glistening with tears. "Then perhaps they can both find some peace."


	10. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

The science did tell them a lot but it was Anna herself who told them the most. Lindsay spent hours painstakingly going through the diary, preserving it's fragile pages, enhancing the faded text, and selecting the passages that told her story.

They met on a damp grey Friday morning, the mid-winter sun trying it's hardest to push through the heavy clouds. Mac was already sitting at the conference table when they arrived, a pen and a notepad in front of him, a cup of coffee that had gone cold untouched near his hand. He didn't look quite so haunted though he was still pale and withdrawn. He gave them a weak smile as they entered, each of them selecting a place at the table unconsciously avoiding the chair next to his. Stella was the last to arrive. She slid automatically into the chair next to Mac and their eyes met for a brief second. She smiled her reassurance knowing his level of apprehension and automatically took the lead. "Okay so let's go over what we've got." She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and looked at Sheldon.

Sheldon nodded at Sid to open proceedings. Sid took a look at Mac and took a deep breath. He knew that this case had hit Mac hard and he wanted nothing more than to get this over and done with. "Sheldon and I have completed our findings. Anna Gray died from blunt force trauma. A single blow to the head. I removed several fragments of wood and moss from the wound tract which had an irregular shape indicating a weapon with a rough uneven edge, possibly a branch or a small log." Sid paused to look at Mac but he didn't react so he continued. "Er … there were some other wounds ... one of her fingers was broken and there was a hairline fracture to a rib and damage to the surrounding tissue suggesting she had been hit hard. As far as I can tell there were no signs of … er … sexual assault but after all this time ..." Sid looked apologetically at Mac who gave an almost imperceptible nod.

Sheldon looked at Mac and he could see a muscle twitching in his jaw. "She was fully dressed. We went over the clothes she was wearing. There were several tears but there are no viable prints or epithelials or usable trace. Sorry Mac."

Danny picked up where Sheldon left off the words coming out of his mouth like a speeding train. He wanted nothing more than to close this case, if only for Mac's sake "I looked over the bag and her other clothes. There were no prints but there were significant amounts of sodium hydroxide and lard, the typical ingredients of lye soap. I analysed the patterns and from the way the clothes were pushed into the bag ... they were not folded neatly but rammed in ... the person must have been using soap at the time which left marks on the material. The spread of the product shows someone with big hands, much bigger than Anna's. She clearly didn't pack the bag."

There was a pause and Stella looked at Adam, the newest member of the team. This being the first time he had been asked to join a meeting he gulped and began stuttering slightly: "Er … Anna Gray was reported missing on the 13th October 1962. The diary starts three days later. At that time the building where we found her was a boarding house called the Carlisle. It was owned by a Norman Smayle and his wife Georgia. Georgia died in January 1963 under suspicious circumstances but there was no proof of foul play."

"What circumstances?" prompted Stella.

"Er … she was found at the bottom of the flight of stairs that leads to the basement. Her neck was broken. It was finally ruled an accident." Stella nodded as she glanced at Mac. He hadn't moved a muscle. She wondered if he was actually listening. She told Adam to continue.

"Er … Norman Smayle continued to run the place by himself and he sold the Carlisle to a building development company in 1971 who converted it into apartments. He stayed on as caretaker. According to the development company's records, the works carried out included the conversion of rooms on each floor into four apartments, the conversion of the dining room and kitchen into a two bedroom apartment and the conversion of the lounge into a one bedroom apartment. Their records also indicate that the heating ducts were modified and that a new furnace was installed but on the base of the other and I quote 'the existing stone floor being like new'. Norman Smayle continued to work there until 1981 when he died from cancer and Ronald Lester took over." Stella nodded and smiled encouragement. She was gratified to see a half smile and a sigh of relief. It was clear that Adam was nervous yet at the same time thrilled at being included in the meeting.

Finally Stella looked at Lindsay. Lindsay looked nervously at Mac but he didn't seem to be paying attention. She took a deep breath. "Anna began her diary three days after she left home. I've selected the most relevant sections." Again she looked at Mac but he didn't move or acknowledge her. Stella nodded for her to continue and she began to read slowly.

"_16th October 1962. I cannot believe that I have made it. I'm in New York. I went to Times Square tonight and just stood there looking at the lights and the buildings and the people. It was amazing. I have never felt so free. I have found a place to stay. It's warm and comfortable and not too expensive. With all the money I have saved I should be all right for over a month. I shall start looking for a job on Monday and when I have that I shall write home and tell them."_

"_26th October 1962 I've done it. I have found a job and I start next Monday. It is only a part-time job in a typing pool but it is a start. At last I shall be able to begin my own life and do what I want. I should write home and tell them but I will wait until I have started work then they will understand that I can do things for myself and that I do not need to be told what to eat or what to wear or where to go or who to see. I can make those decisions for myself. I should also write to Paul but right now that seems even harder. He's a good man and he deserves better. I know he must hate me for running out on him. I didn't want to hurt him but he must have known that I didn't really love him, that I 'd only agreed to marry him because that was what our parents wanted. I should have told him what I was planning to do but I couldn't. I am a coward."_

For the first time Mac moved. He sat back in his chair, his hand over his mouth. Lindsay looked at Stella concerned by Mac's reaction but Stella nodded for her to continue though Lindsay noticed that Stella's eyes reverted straight back to Mac.

"_4th November 1962. Mr Lyle came up today to bring me wood for the stove as the weather has turned cold and the furnace isn't working properly. He scares me. I don't like the way he looks at me. He always stands so close and the smell of his cigarettes makes me sick. I thought he was never going to go but a woman arrived in the room opposite accompanied by Mrs Lyle who ordered him downstairs. My neighbour's name is Millie. She has come to stay for a few weeks while her Mom is in hospital ..." _Lindsay couldn't help a small smile. _"She has an adorable little boy called Mac. He is so sweet and so serious. I almost laughed when he called me Ma'am. He's only six and already he knows he's going to be a Marine when he grows up."_

Everyone tried hard not to laugh but even Mac himself allowed the corners of his mouth to twitch and his cheeks took on a little colour as he shifted position in his chair. He looked up at Stella and for the first time in many months she could see the smile reach his eyes. At last.

"_24__th__ November 1962. Lyle came up again tonight with yet another excuse. This time it was to check the faucet on the wash-stand. I don't like the way he finds excuses to touch me. I think that I should start looking for somewhere else to stay. I was so glad when Millie knocked on the door and asked if I could look after Mac for an hour while she went to see her mother. I think that she has taken a turn for the worse. Mac adores Suki. I love seeing them play together by the hearth. Mac is really clever. I read him a story and I was surprised to discover that he can already read quite well. He says he's very good at sums and hide and seek which is important to be a good Marine." _There were several sniggers and Mac shook his head slightly and buried his face in his hand but Stella was heartened to see a small smile playing around the edges of his mouth. Lindsay's smile faded a little as she continued. _"I think I should like to be a teacher. Perhaps I could go to school at night and continue to work part time? It is getting late. Millie should be back by now. I think that I should put Mac to bed. I shall leave the doors open so I can keep an eye on him until Millie gets back. I wonder if Millie knows what I need to do to be a teacher. I shall ask her."_

"_28th November 1962. It was Millie's Mom's funeral today. It is bitterly cold and they were frozen when they came back. We all had tea to warm up. I am almost out of wood for the stove but it is so cold that I shall have to pluck up courage and ask Lyle for more. Millie and Mac are leaving early tomorrow morning. I know that they are glad to be going back home. Mac misses his Dad very much but I am sorry to see them go. Saying goodbye was so hard but I have promised Millie I that I would write her to let her know how I get on. I have decided I'm going to be a teacher. I'm going to enrol in school and do a correspondence course. It will be hard work but it will be worth it when I can show my family that I make a life for myself. I shall write to Paul tomorrow and ask for his forgiveness."_

"That was the last entry."

Silence reigned for a few minutes. Finally Mac cleared his throat. They could all see how he was struggling to keep his composure. "Thank you all. I appreciate all the work you've put in on this. Leave me all your reports and I'll make sure that the case file is written up." They all looked at him in surprise.

"But …. but we still don't know what really happened ..." stammered Adam despite, like the others, being able to put two and two together and working out from her diary and Sid's findings what had almost certainly happened.

"No we don't." Mac gave him a half-smile. "Sometimes Adam we have to accept that there are things we will never completely understand."

.

.

.

Stella shivered in the cold wind as she watched Mac lay the flowers by the gravestone, the new carved lettering stark against the faded weather-beaten stone. Mac turned to the older man beside him whose silver-grey hair moved softly in the wind. They shook hands and the man looked approvingly around the peaceful cemetery, the bare trees glistening with a heavy frost, and the Manhattan skyline in the distance. "Thank you for doing this Detective Taylor. I think that it's better for her to be here where she wanted to be." Mac smiled and nodded in understanding. "She was right. I was angry when she left. I did love her you know but deep down, I knew she didn't love me. She was just doing what her parents wanted. I was a lot older than her and she wanted more from life than I could give her. I'm just sorry that she didn't find it, that she ended up …" His voice broke and tears came to his eyes. "It doesn't seem fair."

Mac looked at the man beside him. "No you're right it doesn't."

They said their goodbyes and Mac waited as Paul Michael Rushton walked down the slope and got into the waiting cab and drove away. There was no one else there. Somehow that didn't seem right either. They had tried to trace Anna's family but without success. Mac felt Stella join him and place her hand on his arm, her way of asking if he was all right. He smiled at her and she looked into his eyes to reassure herself that he was okay. His voice was deep and quiet when he spoke. "Thank you Stella."

She looked at him, slightly puzzled as his eyes bore into hers. "For what?" She felt she could lose herself in those eyes.

"For coming with me. For helping me with the arrangements. For believing in me. For not thinking that I was crazy." Stella's cheeks coloured a little at this but Mac didn't notice or at least he pretended not to. "Thank you … for everything." He turned to look at the gravestone. "I'm sure Granny and Grandpa will be happy to look after her."

Stella smiled. "I'm sure they will but you know there is one thing that still puzzles me?" Stella said causing Mac to turn to look at her. "I still don't understand how that photograph of Anna came to be lying under Mark Browning's body."

Mac turned back to look at her intently for a minute. "Perhaps she wanted me to find it." Stella stared at him searching his face for an explanation but there wasn't one. He smiled and they both began the walk down to their car. As they reached the bottom of the grassy slope Mac paused and turned to look back at the gravestone. He smiled and nodded as though recognizing someone. Stella followed his gaze but the cemetery was empty, the grey and white gravestones marking it's only occupants. She turned back to look at Mac and as she did so she caught a glimpse of movement in the corner of her eye. A flash of blue. Suddenly she could smell roses and jasmine. She turned back and blinked but there was nothing. She felt Mac take her hand. "Come on. Let's go home."

.

.

.

_She watched them make their way to the large black car hand in hand just as the winter sun broke through the clouds promising a hint of the spring to come. For a fleeting second she could feel the warm rays on her face, the wind in her hair, the cold wet grass under her feet. She could smell the scent of grass and fresh flowers. She could hear the rustling of the leaves, the cry of a seagull high above her and the soothing hum of the city in the distance. As the images faded from sight she felt light and weightless as though she were floating on the breeze. She felt free and she smiled as she closed her eyes, her last conscious thought being that of a small boy sitting on a green rug, his laughter ringing in her ears as he played with a small black cat._

_.  
_

**The End.**

**Thank you for reading.**


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